The Son-In-Law Of A Prestigious Family Wants A Divorce - Chapter 61



60 – 60. The Sword Offering (7)

*Kwaang!*

*Kwang!*

*Kwaaang!*

The greatsword slams into the ground again, sending a cloud of dust billowing.

Again, Loengreen fails to land a solid blow.

He feels cold sweat trickle down his cheek, his eyes widening.

It wasn’t the thought of defeat that spurred this.

Rather, the feeling that, from the moment he began trading blows with Isaac, it felt no different from having already lost.

The evidence was Loengreen’s gaze, which, at some point, ceased going in the direction of Arundel.

“Do you think you can win by just running away like that!?”

Loengreen shouted at Isaac, his frustration spilling out.

Yet Isaac’s eyes remained unwavering, focused on pressing forward, on the next move.

As if this pointless back-and-forth was a step, however small, towards his victory.

And that.

Made Loengreen’s heart pound even harder.

The sensation of Helmun, lauded as an overwhelming force, being outmaneuvered by a mere commoner.

And it wasn’t just him; others around them could sense it too.

The knights of Helmun felt the backs of their necks prickle with an uneasy fear, while others watched him with wide, nervous eyes.

It felt like they’d become the beasts the knights caught for training practice.

Like Isaac was using him to teach them how to bring down the Helmun beast.

As this thought reached him, Loengreen’s eyes flicked away involuntarily.

Even as swords clashed, he was more focused on watching Arundel than Isaac.

And there.

Was Arundel Helmun, watching Isaac with an expression she had never shown to any member of her family.

Arundel’s body leaned slightly forward, the corners of her mouth tilted up towards her ears.

Even Galenia and Rianna, standing on either side, were staring in surprise at Arundel’s expression rather than the duel.

It wasn’t hard to grasp the magnitude of this astonishment.

And.

‘She’s…smiling?’

*Clang!*

Loengrin’s greatsword tilts, just so, downwards.

Cheers erupt from all sides.

They gasp, saying Isaac’s efforts finally bore fruit, reached Loengrin—

“You’re…laughing?”

But Isaac still couldn’t pierce the crimson aura blazing off Loengrin’s body, forcing him to widen the distance again.

“Ha, haha…hahaha!”

Loengrin covers his face with a hand, and an eerie light coils around his eyes. The red glow, like a rose, becomes suffused with madness.

His gaze, now darkened, looked like a blood-lusting demon.

“I’ll kill you.”

Everything was displeasing.

The way the flow of the duel had changed, at some point.

The fact that he was being assaulted with two thin swords, instead of Helmut’s greatsword.

His act of preaching to everyone that Helmut’s sword was not invincible.

How the cripple, who was always beaten down by him, was now somehow locked in a fierce duel.

The setting sun turning his dark hair blood red, like Helmut’s.

And lastly.

The fact that he had piqued Father’s interest.

“I will, certainly, kill you.”

His pride and self-esteem were trampled.

The crimson aura surrounding Loengrin’s body vanishes in an instant.

And then.

*Pshooo!*

It, concentrated onto the greatsword, stretches out as if to swallow the sky.

“aaah!”

“He’s gone mad! What is that!”

“I…I can’t breathe.”

The audience screamed and gasped in horror.

They groaned in agony, simply from being nearby.

Helmut’s overwhelming pressure seized control of the space.

It kept extending, and extending, on the verge of tearing apart the very sky.

Loengreen, hands raised high, grins bright through welling tears.

“Do you see, Father?”

He dearly wished his father could see this. Clearly.

“It’s the single strike you showed me.”

The greatest, most overwhelming blow Arundel Hellmunt had ever displayed.

He’d never been taught, but Loengreen, as a child, had never forgotten that sword,

And strived, tirelessly, to mimic it.

And so.

It was done.

“I am your successor! The head of the great Hellmunt house, I say!”

He only wished to walk the path his father had tread.

To follow, like a devoted son, the magnificent back, to elevate his brilliance.

To become one worthy of the name.

Crimson Annihilation Strike.

To break, to rend, to burn, to crush.

The mighty sword, only displayed by the head of the Hellmunt house, descends upon Isaac.

* * *

Isaac’s lips twitch upwards, watching the strike meant to crush him.

Rianna, shocked and trying to stop him from afar, and Arundel, restraining his daughter, come into his sight.

Had his father-in-law ever been capable of such a grin?

Truly a mischievous smile, and a gaze filled with an excitement he’d never seen, not before nor after his return.

At Arundel’s excited countenance, Isaac’s lips stretched into a grin of his own.

‘There is no denying it’s a great sword.’

Just moments ago, he had been dismantling the Hellmunt swordsmanship, showing the martial world that Hellmunt was no longer invincible.

And yet.

Having dismantled the Hellmunt style himself, Isaac had no choice but to admit it honestly.

Hellmunt’s sword was truly alluring.

A technique many swordsmen yearned for, could not imitate,

And thus, revered as insurmountable.

[Why fight again?]

‘…….’

[Your heart, truly like a reed in the wind. Decide, do you hate Helmunt, or do you like him?]

‘It just frustrates me that one of our own would speak such drivel, claiming Helmunt merely fights with brute strength.’

[Tch, fine. I understand your heart.]

He hated Helmunt, yes.

But their swordsmanship, he yearned for it.

This tangled feeling, the Grand Master understood.

[The most gifted swordsman in the world, what he built after casting everything else away.]

[Indeed, there’s no denying the yearning.]

Honestly.

From the moment he started studying Helmunt’s sword, he’d found himself understanding.

If everything was discarded for this…

Yes, he had to accept it.

But.

Seeking a deeper understanding, exploring Arundel’s will, reaching the precipice where Helmunt had touched down…

Isaac exhaled a sigh of rage.

“Kuaaa!”

With a shout, the Crimson Annihilation Strike came crashing down.

Never had he imagined, in his own lifetime, facing this.

A crimson tide, roaring like fire, about to engulf Isaac, but as he raised his stance toward the sky…

Astonishingly, the crimson flow shifted. A simple, almost too plain action.

Like ink at the tip of a pen, as Isaac swung his stance, the crimson rippled and swirled around him.

The power, just a moment ago howling with ferocity, now seemed to cower before its enemy. A scene of sheer shock.

“Ah, no, how can that be?!”

“He…he deflected Helmunt’s power?”

“Impossible!”

They knew nothing.

Isaac smirked.

Helmunt’s sword focused on power, yes, but power was not all.

It was the very imitation of Arundel’s sword that formed the Roen-Grin.

But, could Arundel really just be swinging his sword with mere brute force?

‘Absolutely not.’

If Caldias’s spear was meant for anyone to wield, universally.

Then Helmun’s sword seemed born from a will that sought to prevent any imitation.

Lohengrin’s missteps included:

His one stride, the position of his greatsword, the sword’s direction, the greatsword’s length unsuitable for the Crimson Strike, his shallow breath, the uncollected strike of the mana…

Numerous small, yet piled-up mistakes.

Conversely.

Such small things not being permitted, that is the sword of the current head of Helmun,

Arundel.

“Ah, Nya-!”

The incomplete Crimson Strike’s mana, now shifts the air, swirling around Isaac.

It was as if Isaac was controlling it, a scene that twisted Lohengrin’s face deeply.

His father’s stroke, the one he had striven for years to master, it was as if that b*stard had stolen it.

“No!”

His own mana strike, now empty.

Lohengrin, clutching only his greatsword, his eyes now drowning in fear.

“It’s mine! That is! It is mine!”

He lunged forward.

For the first time in his life.

Helmun’s mana strike now strengthened Isaac.

“Helmun’s pride! It’s great glory-! Is not something for the likes of you to wield! It is! It is-!”

Lohengrin’s scream, like a sob, was pierced by Isaac’s words.

“Too crude.”

With mana infused into my stance, it was crude enough to twist that flow of mana.

Had he tried to press down with force from beginning to end, the odds of Isaac losing would have been higher.

Imitation, not true learning, is merely.

“A copy.”

[Do not become a copy.]

“……!”

The moment Isaac’s voice and his father’s voice clashed and echoed.

A blade’s mark is carved onto Lohengrin’s chest.

Lohengrin, collapsing into the pool of spilled blood, sinks to his knees.

Thud!

First in line to inherit the Helmunt family.

The eldest son of Helmunt.

The instant Lohengrin fell, a stillness descended.

No one had foreseen this, none were prepared to accept it.

In the world that seemed to have stopped.

Isaac only locked eyes with Arandel.

He wanted to speak.

To explain why the Silent Blade had raged after comprehending the Helmunt sword.

It wasn’t because he had been abandoned.

‘Did you truly think Helmunt had reached the end?’

Having discarded everything allowed Helmunt to reach that point.

But conversely.

The inability to move forward.

Was also because of what he had discarded.

From noble mtl dot com

The abandoned man was speaking.

Crack!

A massive, booming clap.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

It was the first time Arandel Helmunt had ever offered praise for someone’s sword.

Immediately after.

A roar of cheers washed over Isaac.